Above the old Brush Manufacturing Company
in Brighton resides the woodshop of Hayes Shanesy: a lanky, soft-spoken
guy who is the other half of the independent retail enterprise, the
Brush Factory. Shanesy and business partner/longtime romantic partner
Rosie Kovacs recently created a separate arm to their growing business
endeavor, focused exclusively on Shanesy’s wooden handcrafted furniture:
Brighton Exchange.

Since Kovacs makes clothes, bags and
other soft goods under the Brush Factory title, the two felt that
renaming Shanesy’s furniture and accessories brand would allow their
audience to differentiate between the two respective products. It’s a
simple yet philosophical change that can impact both buyers and the
producer, and it is clear that Shanesy is an analytical thinker in his
approach to his work.

What began in 2009 as a casual project
for Shanesy has now blossomed into a full-time business endeavor. Having
lived in Brighton for several years, Shanesy was looking for a garage
to work on classic cars and vintage motorcycles when Fred Lane (a
longtime Brighton advocate/property owner) approached the couple about
the old Brush Manufacturing Company’s building. They employed existing
storefront space and built entirely new architecture downstairs, but the
fact that there was a working woodshop upstairs sealed the deal for
Shanesy and Kovacs.They’ve since moved out of the bottom floor storefront but maintain the woodshop as an integral part of their business.

Shanesy — a third generation “shop rat”
whose father and grandfather were both cabinetmakers by trade — was
raised around antiques, Shaker furniture and George Nakashima’s iconic
work at an early age, and their influence on his clean and classic
design is apparent in his ability to allow the material to speak for
itself. Despite his early exposure, though, Shanesy arrived at his
current position almost accidentally.

A graduate of the University of
Cincinnati’s College of Design, Architecture, Art and Planning’s
Industrial Design program (an industry-driven program with a focus on
plastic product manufacturing and mass production, according to
Shanesy), he spent much of his time working in the transportation studio
on campus.

Even in the furniture/chair studio at school — much to his
father’s dismay — Shanesy made a steel chair instead of a wooden one.

Although he has woodworking in his blood,
“it wasn’t something that I conscientiously pursued,” Shanesy admits.
“My interest grew for a long amount of time. The older I got, the more I
realized it made sense to me and how much all these things that go into
woodworking and design play into my interests.” And part of that
interest involves constantly learning and challenging himself to tinker
and create.

When The Brush Factory first began,
Shanesy was working on restoring vintage motorcycles, but he explains,
“my interest in that was a problem solving satisfaction: fixing things;
figuring out how they work.” His mentor dad might be “phasing into
retirement,” but the editor for Popular Woodworker Magazine still isn’t around all the time, and consequently Shanesy does a lot of experimenting.

“I’m going deep here but I spend a lot of
time by myself just working on stuff, and there’s so much more besides
just a hands-on task that you learn along the way about life — about who
you are, just working on something that’s a ‘mindless task.’ It is very
fulfilling spiritually,” Shanesy says. “Making stuff by hand imparts
something that is you — even if you don’t intentionally do it. That is
something that’s lost when you can just spit something out on a
computer.”

Despite his suspicion of automated tools,
Shanesy insists he’s not a craft purist, and that he would enjoy using a
Computer Numeric Control (CNC) machine to robot route/laser cut wood —
at the very least for prototyping — if he had one.

Both woodworking and vintage motors are
dated technology and, according to Shanesy, “it’s a matter of just
getting in there and doing it — just like anything. It’s a part of my
personality, I guess. I don’t take a lot of risks as a businessperson,
but I’m willing to get my hands dirty. I’m willing to try. You make
mistakes — that’s how you learn.”

Schmoozing and networking with clients
doesn’t come naturally for Shanesy, yet he knows that selling, marketing
and getting your product out there require a kind of social savvy, and
he’s working on it. “It’s amazing how much time has to be devoted to
that,” he says. It’s apparent that the process of creation remains of
primary importance to the craftsman.

“It’s a quest for dexterity and learning
how your hands and mind work,” Shanesy says of his approach to his
trade. “Years ago when there were apprenticeships, you worked your way
up by working under someone and accumulating that experience hands on,
hour after hour, year after year.”

And Shanesy believes the mark of the human hand is missing in most affordable design today.

“My absolute goal is to design and make
things that the average person can afford and enjoy,” he says, noting
that many in our day and age don’t seem to fully comprehend the
correlation between time invested and money compensated.

Another small but significant change that
Shanesy made recently was to reassess the company’s packing modes.
Everything under the Brighton Exchange moniker is now flat-packed, and
(although a few require minimal assembly), storing and shipping flat
containers is much more space- and cost-efficient. Those of us who shop
at Ikea might take this kind of flat packing for granted, but it was a
minor design change that can make a major difference for a small company
like Brighton Exchange.

The retail business may be a tough one, but Shanesy believes it’s charged with potential.

“Locally, the amount of small businesses
and independent growth that the city has embraced — and funded — is
incredible. And I can’t imagine it’s only Cincinnati,” Shanesy says.

“I think there will always be an interest
in artifacts that have the human touch to them. It’s an ancient thing;
that’s where emotion happens."To shop BRIGHTON EXCHANGE, visit www.brighton-exchange.com